Lung Surgery Take II & all that Follows...

It is now Friday, January 6th, 2012 - three days since my surgery...and I can honestly say that although I'm in a lot of pain and discomfort, there is still a small smile on my face. My doctor was able to remove both masses laparoscopically! Of course this was the first question I asked after being woken up from my anesthetic slumber and was so extremely happy when they said that no, I did not have my entire lung cut open again. It is probably one of the best pieces of news I have ever received.

Starting from "the beginning" - we left around 5:30am on Tuesday (1/3/12) morning to head into the city and arrived just before 7am. Long story short, I was freaking out because no one was giving me anything to help me relax. I kept informing the nurses that were coming in and out of my "room" (more of a bed separated from other beds by sliding curtains...talk about privacy...) that I needed something to take the edge off before I was to go absolutely insane. The funny thing is, most of the nurses that were coming in to hook me up to something or obtain another piece of information or whatever else, remembered me from June - haha. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. I guess it was good since they understood my anxious "condition" but at the same time, I'm sure they weren't excited to see the crazy chick with a Tourette's mouth back again.

There was a new woman from Pain Management that came to see me. When I explained to her that I needed to be as knocked out as possible without actually being knocked out prior to my epidural and being wheeled into surgery, she basically gave me a hard time. Bitch, I'm telling you what I need in order for me to keep myself from stabbing you in the jugular. Low and behold, she didn't give me enough. I was totally aware of what was happening when they were putting in the epidural, of course crying the entire time. I was aware when I said goodbye to my parents as I was being wheeled down the hall into the surgery room, of course, crying. I was still aware when they asked me to move over onto the actual operating table with my doctor looking at me as I was hysterically crying telling him that I didn't want to know what was going on right now...and getting in one more comment about please doing his best to take them out with a camera and not ruining my tattoo. Haha. I enjoy my slight doctor pep-talks.

Here I am after being stabbed to death...crying...

I might have been crying even more because they told me that they were running a little behind and that I probably wouldn't be going into surgery until 10:30am. I never understand this. I was asked to be at the hospital at 7am. One would think that I would be the first or second surgery. Apparently not! The thing is, if you're going to make me wait there, KNOWING I have major anxiety, then do what I tell you to do and give me as much sedatives as you can so that I'm at least relaxed and not wanting to claw my way up the walls. They should try to make you feel as comfortable, both mentally and physically, as possible. Whatever.

I remember one of the nurses saying my name and telling me to wake up, that surgery was over. I opened my eyes and asked, "Did they get them out with the camera?" She said yes. I was ecstatic. I know that I wasn't in as much pain waking up this time around and I wasn't propped on my side like the last time. My dad took this picture when my parents were allowed to come in. I don't think I look half bad for being cut open...then again I'm probably glowing with my good news...

Obviously this was the most important thing. I knew my recovery wouldn't be complete Hell and torture and that I wouldn't be in the hospital as long. I wound up only staying over one night and both my (male) nurses were great and extremely helpful. They actually kept telling me I should be out by early afternoon on 1/4 so when I was told that I was scheduled for a follow up chest xray at 3pm I was pissed. I kept trying to remind myself to be thankful of what transpired but I just wanted to go home at that point. Lucky for me, they removed my catheter in the morning on Wednesday, my chest tube in the early afternoon and finally my epidural in the early evening...so I didn't have to sit there with tubes coming out everywhere. I was getting a little nervous though because I couldn't pee for the longest time!

Once they remove your catheter, they put a "hat" - this thing that fits inside the toilet so they can monitor your peeing to make sure you're actually going - inside the toilet. My mom stayed over with me and I kept trying to go but nothing was coming out. I actually told her to go in there for me because I was scared they were going to try to put the damn catheter back in! Good luck with that, nurses. You'd never get that thing back in there.

Other then taking forever to pee, I was numb again - except not only was I numb on my right side, I was numb (AGAIN) on my left side. Umm...why? That was the first thing I asked my doctor when he came to visit me on Wednesday morning. I mean, my left side is still numb from the last surgery but this was as if I got surgery on that side once again. Basically, the entire "trunk" of my body was numb. My sides, my boobs, under my arms, my back and down to my belly. Lucky for me, the numbness on the left side lessened a bit as the day went on and it's back to being the regular sort-of-numb that it's remained since June. My doctor was unable to explain why my left side was numb, by the way. Cool. Glad there is no reason for this.

The meds they used for the epidural were different this time around...and I wound up having a weird reaction to them. As I'm sure anyone that's ever received an epidural knows, you get this pump that you can press every so often to control your own meds. For me, once again, the epidural did nothing to help with the pain - it's just an annoyance. But they always tell you it's helping even if you don't think it is, so I do what they tell me and press the button. Well - I wish I got a picture of my face. As soon as I started using the epidural, my face turned legit tomato red and was itching me like crazy. Only my face. What the fuck. I looked like I had fallen asleep in the sun with baby oil on my face. It was SO red.

I knew the epidural was causing this weird reaction on my face - and it was also causing me to be crazy nauseous. They let you have liquids as your first "meal" in order to see if you can keep anything down due to all the meds and whatnot. Welp, I violently puked up all the ices and jello and whatever else I consumed the morning following my surgery. I didn't tell my nurse because I didn't want them to freak out. I knew it was just the meds that weren't agreeing with me. I was still pumping the epidural since my shoulder was killing me and the same medication they gave me during the last lung surgery to relieve some of the pressure could only be administered every 6 freakin' hours. So, when lunch time rolled around and I had some actual food...I knew that was going to come up too. And my friends, it did. Gross.

I decided that perhaps I should stop using the epidural after that. I probably stopped pumping it around 11am. I could've stood on the side of the street and used my face in place of a stop sign it was so red and coupled with the puking...enough was enough. After a few hours the redness started to go down a little and I wasn't feeling as sick. Again - I didn't tell my nurse. Whoops...

Hey! You gotta do what you gotta do to get the hell out of there! I guess you can see my Rudolph nose a little in this picture. This was before my liquid breakfast:

After they took out the catheter, I had my mom take some pictures of my war wounds. The three incisions that were made are actually a lot bigger then I thought they would be. I guess I was assuming they would be like my last laparoscopic surgery on my pelvis...boy, was I wrong. The four little ones on my stomach are so tiny in comparison to these.

The pictures below show the incisions but my body is also cluttered with other markings - I guess my doctor mapped out what he might have had to do should the laparoscopic surgery not have been an option. If those markings are any indication of what could've been...then HALLELUJAH I wound up with the first option.

The first incision point is under my armpit basically, the second is on my back where my lung is and the third is through my tattoo. As you can see, they're not super small (granted, they're nowhere near what my other one was though).

While I was in the hospital, my chest tube was all bandaged up and I didn't know what damage had been done to my tattoo. I was SUPER nervous about this. When the nurse took out my chest tube on Wednesday she said that it looked as good as it could be...but I didn't see it until today when I took off the bandages to try to take a shower (which I still couldn't since the incision is still oozing...gross). It really is as good as it could be and I'm SO happy about it! My doctor stayed right in the lines, haha. It's a thick incision but it's small - and will heal right along with the lines of my tattoo. I'm so relieved. It's a great feeling to know that something that will be on your body forever wasn't ruined during an unwanted surgery.

Anyway, my follow up xray's were of course, late. I didn't get them done until around 4pm on Wednesday so my mom and I just decided to stay a little while longer, have some dinner and then leave to avoid rush hour traffic back home. I wound up arriving home around 8pm on the 4th and I was never happier to be in my own house. This surgery definitely ran a lot smoother then the last one but it's still stressful and upsetting.

With that being said, I'll touch upon some of the lovely side effects that only I would wind up with. First of all, my red face finally returned to it's normal color...but for the last three days it has been PEELING non-stop. Like seriously, it looks and feels as though I decided to get myself a chemical peel. Are you freaking kidding me?! Layer upon layer upon layer of my skin has peeled off! I don't even know how to say it without laughing about it because it's just total ridiculous.

I have been lathering my skin with lotion and straight Vaseline and it is still peeling. I just don't get it! What the hell is this from? Is it from the epidural? My mom suggested that maybe it was from the anesthesia - like, the mask they put over your mouth. Ok, well if that's true then why is my ENTIRE face peeling? This is something I plan on asking my doctor during my follow up visit on 1/18.

Another weird side effect I have...I don't even know how to explain. I discovered this last night as I was rubbing my shoulder up to my neck since it's still killing me. Even as I try to explain the feeling of this I think to myself that I must be completely out of my mind, but there is no other way. Basically, right below my hair line behind my ear on the right side of my neck, feels and sounds as though there is a small layer of...plastic? Under my skin.

It crinkles.

I'm laughing typing this. I don't know what the fuck to say other then I muted my TV last night, put my neck close to my dad's ear and told him to listen. When I press into my skin under my hair line it legit crinkles as though you're touching a piece of some flimsy plastic, ha! It also feels like it...under my skin. It's SO weird! It was really freaking me out last night. All I kept thinking was that perhaps some of my spinal fluid like, leaked out into my neck and was fermenting in there or something.

Clearly, I'm not a doctor. I decided to wait until trying to explain this to my doctor or one of his Fellows at Sloan...if for nothing else then saving myself from looking like a lunatic. It has gotten a little better throughout the day today and doesn't feel as weird as it did last night. But seriously - what the fuck.

Other then the chemical peel I didn't order for myself and the plastic that was inserted under my skin during surgery, the other things are pretty normal. My skin is starting to feel tight and hurts. I can barely lift my right arm without the assistance of the other one. My breathing is a little labored and I can feel a little gurgling in there. But these are all normal healing processes that I'm just going to have to deal with.

Overall, I couldn't be happier with how things turned out. My paperwork states that I can't drive for 4 weeks but I guess I'll see how I'm feeling in two weeks when I go for my follow up visit. I'm hoping to be able to take a shower tomorrow which always makes you feel like more of a human. I've been using these hospital bath wipes in place of real soap and water which isn't the best feeling in the world...and my dad helped me wash my hair today. So, little by little I'm starting to feel more normal although I'm sure I'm going to be in pain for a while. But that's fine. It won't be anything like it was the last time and for that, I'm super thankful.

Because my mother and I were so exhausted when my doctor came to see me, we didn't ask how much of my lung he actually removed. We also didn't ask if the pathology reports were back yet. I'm sure on the 18th I'll obtain this information but I will be curious to see if both masses turned out to be Leiomyosarcoma and how much of my lung I still have left.

I'll update more as my recovery goes on.

The Countdown to Doomsday.

I'm sure I've used the term Doomsday or D-Day more then a few times during the course of my journey with Cancer. However, I feel that this might really be the most emotionally trying surgery I'll have had for a few reasons. One, I'll be losing more of my lung this time then the last time. Two, I have no clue what type of surgery I'll wind up getting until I wake up from it. Three, there's a strong possibility due to the location of the small tumors that I will wind up with another major surgery. Four, knowing the torturous recovery I went through less then 7 months ago (that I'm still suffering from), the possibility of having to relive that all over again is causing me to take more then a few xanax every day.

I've said it once and I'll say it again - it's the not knowing part that makes it the most difficult to deal with. At least when you know exactly what is going to take place, even if it's the worst possible thing you can think of, you still have time to mentally prepare. When you don't know, you don't know what to do. Do you pray and hope and wish for the best possible scenario and then have it be a total slap in the face if it turns out the other way? Do you just prepare for the worst even when everyone around you is telling you not to?

The "problem" with me is that I'm a realist. I've said it before that some people may take this as me having a negative side but I do not feel that way at all. For me, it's easier to examine all possible outcomes and prepare for the worst but hope for the best rather then expect the best and feel totally devastated when it doesn't turn out the way I want. Of course I am hoping for a slight miracle - that they can be removed laparoscopically (and that my tattoo won't be ruined...). But what if they can't? I'll wake up from surgery and hear that they had to cut me open again and I'll be heartbroken. Just the thought of having to go through that horrible recovery AGAIN kills me...but I feel that it's better to be prepared for that possibility then to pretend it won't happen.

I received a call on Friday, 12/30, from Sloan telling me that I need to be at the hospital at 7am. I'm quite happy with this because I'm hoping I'll be the first surgery of the day. The last time I had to be there much later in the morning/afternoon and they didn't wind up taking me into surgery until like 4-5pm because they were running behind. Do you know how horrible that is? You can't eat after midnight the night before plus you have all these terrible thoughts running through your mind all day. So basically, you're on the verge of insanity. I don't know why they do that to people.

Side note: the person from Sloan that called me was some Joe-Shmoe off the block and not a nurse. Not that I don't know what to expect but I did have a few questions that I could've used an answer to. She told me she couldn't answer them. Um, is it me or would you think a nurse would call telling you what to do to prepare, what to bring, what to wear, answer questions, etc.? Once again, maybe I'm asking for too much. I feel like I'm always asking for too much when it comes to medical things. Like, is it too much to ask that my Medicaid Representative call me back after four consecutive days of leaving messages and faxing her? Apparently. Someone finally called me back after the 4th day stating my Rep was out for the week. How nice. Perhaps her voicemail should've stated that. Whoops - there I go again. Asking too much. Anywho...

At least this time hopefully I'll be taken right in, start my recovery sooner, be able to eat/drink something sooner and GOD WILLING be able to leave that fucking hospital as soon as possible. I've come to both love and absolutely loathe Sloan-Kettering. I know I'm in the best hands but at the same time just the thought of trekking into the city for doctor appointments, blood work, injections, surgery, etc...makes me want to stick a fork in my eye.

By this time tomorrow I'll know what kind of recovery I'm looking at. Again, I'm hoping/praying for the best outcome - if only for the sake of my boobs. If I need another full-fledged-cut-me-open-bend-my-ribs surgery the Ladies are going to be on their own for quite a while because I'm honestly not sure when the next time they'll be able to reunite with a bra will be. For all the women out there who are well endowed, I know you feel my pain. It's not easy living a bra-less life.

Anyway, in preparation I've cleaned my entire house, my room is spotless, my bedding is in the dryer so I can climb into a fresh-sheets bed tonight and I've packed a bag for the hospital that will allow me to stay for one-five nights. I will be bringing a nice supply of xanax

I just want to get it over with already. My next entry will either be an incredibly happy or incredibly angry one. Hoping for the first option. Tonight I will be enjoying my "Last Supper" of sushi and hibachi and I have scheduled a massage for myself after that. There's nothing more I can really do. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Hear we go again. I'm hoping to kicking off 2012 with something that I can be happy with rather then upset about...I guess we shall see tomorrow.

See ya, 2011...Hello 2012!

As the end of 2011 draws near, I can't help but think to myself, GOOD RIDDANCE. Each year comes with it's up and downs but for me, I feel as though 2011 was one big slippery, slimy, unsatisfactory ride down. I'm hoping that the start of a new year will bring the start of some good/positive things.

On that note, I'd like to reflect on the good that is in my life. This year has brought along some positive things as well as the not-so-great. New friends, the rekindling of old ones, family, a deeper respect for those that help to make the world a better place and I guess a deeper respect for myself.

This year above all, I've come to learn that when faced with traumatic issues, there are always people - whether you know them or not - willing to lend a supportive hand. It's crazy. The amount of kind gestures and words of encouragement that surrounded me this year is something I will never forget. It always surprises me when people take the time to express their emotions for someone they barely know.

We watch the news, look out our windows, at work, at school, in the home...their are negative things happening around the world at all times. Sometimes you get so caught up in the bad that you forget there is still good out there. This year has shown me there are many kind souls still left in the world and that maybe we should stop focusing so much on all the bad.

Bad things are going to happen constantly throughout life - but hey, that's life, no? If everything was great all the time we would never be able to realize that maybe we should be thankful for what we do have - instead of what we don't.

Don't get me wrong - I'd still like to live in a bigger house, make a more comfortable salary, not have to worry if Cancer's ugliness will be staring me down once again...but maybe I shouldn't worry so much about the little things. About the person driving 20 miles under the speed limit in front of me. About the line at the store that wraps around the building. About that friend of a friend of a friend whose 47 minute story could've been told in a matter of 2.8 minutes.

Maybe we should look at the "bad" little things that annoy us every day as a way of whatever force is out there, telling us to slow down and just realize that this is your life. You've only got one of it. Why not try to enjoy it and make the most of it?

I could've done without most of the events that took place in 2011 but I could only hope that 2012 has some better things in store. And if not...if this year will be a repeat of last year, then at least I know I can handle it. I've faced many of life's emotional let-downs this year and had no problem telling them to fuck off. I guess I could have the same mentality this year...

To all my friends, family, readers...have a Safe, Healthy, Happy New Year and I look forward to sharing more of life's experiences - both good and bad - with all of you in 2012.

Merry Christmas To All.

As I sit here on Christmas Eve writing out my Christmas cards, I can't help but reflect on a few things. Unfortunately, this year's holiday season isn't too joyous. Aside from receiving the news that I have Cancer again and need surgery again, my Grandma passed away yesterday morning. It was so unexpected too...which I guess is the saddest part.

I will say that although it's so heart wrenching that she's gone, in a way I'm thankful. She broke her hip years ago and became bed-ridden after that, causing her to be in that bed for 6 years already. That's no way to live. However, she was well taken care of and seemed to be somewhat content...although her mind has been going lately. I think it was actually partly because of her that she started believing she just took a walk on the beach or cooked dinner for everyone. She went to a happy and pleasant place in her mind and went there quite often. However, most of the time she knew who we were and had conversations with us about our lives.

One time a year or so ago she asked if I was engaged yet (ha). When I told her that no, I wasn't and that I was still single, she went on to tell me about the kind of man I should wait for. She insisted that I only choose a truly "good" man - someone genuine of heart. It was a lovely conversation and one I will never forget.

Throughout my Grandma's life, I've always known her to be religious. She attended church every Sunday, helped with the church bingo, donated quite a lot of her time and money over the years, and always kept (and prayed it every day) a Rosary on her. If anyone was to go to Heaven, it would be her. The last 6 years she's been confined to her bed the bulk of her time was spent praying. It's incredible to see someone so devoted to their religious beliefs. My mother believes that my small "miracles" of sorts (how I found the Cancer initially, getting it removed when I was told I didn't have to, having it stay away for almost 3 years, only having the tumor removed in my left lung instead of losing the whole thing, etc.) are in part due to her praying for me so much. Although my mother never told her outright that I had Cancer, she informed her that I was ill and needed surgery when it came down to the times I was diagnosed and for her to pray for me. I already know my Grandma didn't need to be told to pray for me because I know she always did - but maybe she prayed a little extra during those times.

The night of the 22nd my mother and aunt received a call that my Grandma was breathing weird and was vomiting. They stayed all night but she seemed to be doing better in the morning - talking, holding down food, etc. All of a sudden her breathing got heavy and weird again and within a matter of a half hour or less, she was gone. I'm glad it was quick and hopefully as painless as possible. It was just super unexpected. She was fine up until two nights ago. I guess it was just her time.

The whole thing just reminds me that life is a fragile thing and it's up to you to choose how you want to live it. Because she was so extremely kind and giving, she devoted her time to praying for the well being of others. How selfless.

I know she is definitely up in whatever Heaven there is, seated extremely close to God or whatever Higher Power we have up there. I know she is still praying for me and I feel comfort in knowing I have someone like her on my side.

Merry Christmas to all. Hopefully I will be able to move past the negative things surrounding my holiday season and be thankful for my life and the good that is in it.

A Little Story of Faith.

As I celebrated my 27th birthday on Saturday, 12/17, I couldn't help but feel a sense of Faith because of something that recently happened to me. On my way home from work on Friday, 12/16, my good friend asked me to stop by her work because she had something she's been meaning to give to me. When I arrived she pulled out a small bag with a small pendant in it. She told me a mutual friend of ours gave it to her to give to me. As she explained what it was and what it meant, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

For those who know me well, you know I'm not a very religious person. I do believe there is a God - a Higher Power. I pray. I believe He watches over us and I pray for my loved ones and myself. But I would consider myself more spiritual then religious. I don't attend church, I don't read the Bible, I don't believe that if you commit a small sin that you sit in Purgatory for however long it takes to get up to Heaven. I feel that if you are really a good person, God will know. However, I couldn't help but be in slight awe of what I was holding in my hand.

The pendant in my palm was passed along to me by someone who has been through quite enough trials and tribulations that it's hard to believe he wouldn't want to keep it for himself. This pendant was blessed by Mother Teresa herself - and so was he.

How incredible is that? The woman was Canonized as a SAINT for crying out loud. The very meaning of the canonization of a saint is that the Pope, the Supreme authority in the Catholic Church, declares that a person practiced heroic virtue and lived in fidelity to God's grace, is with God in Heaven and is to be venerated throughout the whole Church. It's crazy when you think about it.

Just the idea that someone who really doesn't need to think nor care about anyone's problems but his own - to give up something so meaningful and just Awesome. How selfless for someone to give it to someone else because they feel that person needs it more then them. It's just amazing and I was completely honored to receive it.

It's really comforting to know that good people who put others before themselves still exist in the world. I know most people wouldn't want to give something that was blessed by a Saint to someone else to keep...especially when they could use the blessing for themselves. It's that kind of spirit that really makes you think about the true meaning of this time of the year.

Happy Holiday's, everyone.

"Happy" Birthday to Me.

I received a call on Monday stating that my lung doctor wanted to see me to discuss surgery options and that he could "squeeze" me in on Wednesday at 10:45am. If I decided on surgery, I would not need to meet with my Oncologist but if I decided against it, I would then meet with her to go over whatever other options I had. Because I already knew those other "options" were to either A.) do nothing or B.) get hormonal treatment, I figured my only real option was surgery.

I was finally seen around 12:30pm. My life now seems to revolve around the amount of time I waste waiting for appointments.

When my lung doctor walked in I (jokingly) told him that I never wanted to see him again...especially not this soon after my surgery. He smiled and began to go over what was happening. What I like about him is that he shows me my scans so I can see what he's actually talking about.

He showed me my most recent scans of my right lung, along with the scans of my left lung when they found the tumor the last time. It's without question that the one in my left lung was legit like 90% larger then the ones in my right lung. And actually, there's only one real tumor right now - the second one is questionable. From looking at the scans I could see how the real one grew and how the other one was still a bit hazy and unclear. He said that when I was in surgery he would remove the second one if he felt that it needed to be removed.

There are a few good things and a few bad things. The first good piece of news is that I apparently always had these small masses - so they are not new metastises. That is actually great, not good, news. Because I already had them, it means that new Cancer has not appeared. The bad news is the location of the first tumor. It is located right near a vein and will be difficult to remove. Of course! Because not only do I have to live with Cancer...but I have to live with difficult Cancer. It's always in spots that are not desirable.

He said that the surgery could go one of two ways:

1.) He will first attempt to go in laparoscopically with a camera and remove the masses. This is obviously the more desirable type of surgery. The recovery time would probably only be a few weeks, I would have a CRAZY significant amount LESS scaring on my body and would most likely only be in the hospital for one night. Not to mention that my ribs would never be touched causing basically no pain for months and months afterwards - like I still have from my surgery in June.

2.) He won't be able to cut out the tumor around the vein and will need to perform the same surgery as last time - only with a slightly smaller incision.

Obviously I will be totally devastated if it's the latter. I know I'm strong and can handle quite a bit but I really don't know if I could go through that torture AGAIN. It'll be basically 6 months to the day (give or take a few days) since they operated on my left lung and now I'll have to go through the same fucking bullshit but on my right side?! I'll never be able to wear a bra again!

I'm already in pain every day (granted it's tolerable but it's still extremely uncomfortable) on my left side. I couldn't even imagine having BOTH sides of my body totally sore, numb, uncomfortable, etc. Just the thought of it makes me so angry. I can't believe this is happening again.

Naturally I told him that if he really wanted to give me a good birthday present, he would do everything in his power to remove this shit laparoscopically...and save my tattoo as much as he could. That's right. He will have to go in right where my tattoo is on my right side. Great. I'm glad I suffered through a huge rib piece for hours only to have it mutilated by unwanted surgery. Note where the arrow is:

Yeah. Not a happy lady over here.

After I signed all the consent forms, cried, gave my doctor one last pleading effort to do everything he could to make me not have to go through what I went through the last time...I was on my way out of the office and onto do all the pre-surgery crap. Again.

The last time I had to do the Pulmonary testing the idiot girl who was doing it was legit poking around trying to find my artery for 5 minutes before I cursed her out and told her if she stabbed me one more time I was going to flip out on her. Lucky for me, this time I had someone who knew what they were doing. And she was quick to inform me that the girl who did it the last time was no longer employed at Sloan. Great! Glad I could be the pin cushion.

Since I've been basically getting exposure treatment while being in the Trial with all the needles I had to endure, I'm much more confident that I won't pass out with blood work. This was totally different. Because they have to extract blood from the artery and not the vein, they need to go in super deep. Ew. I'm about to puke while typing this. All I'm going to say is that I almost passed out. The blood drained from my face and things were getting foggy. Two cups of orange juice and 10 minutes of rest and I was ok to blow into the lung machine thing. My mom said she was watching the screen as I did my tests and my lungs were so strong the cursor practically shot off the screen. Ha. All I can say is that my wrist hurts today and it looks like I got bit by a spider.

After the Pulmonary Tests I waited again until they took me to do all the pre-surgery vitals and EKG and whatnot. More blood work was involved but I was fine. The only thing that kept running through my mind was that I could not believe I was going through this again...such a short time after my last surgery. It just really fucking sucks.

My surgery is scheduled for January 3rd, 2012. I guess I wanted to be able to semi enjoy my birthday, Christmas and New Years without being in pain. The shitty thing is that I really can't enjoy my New Years as much as I'd like to since I can't drink or even take freakin' vitamins a week before my surgery. I guess I'll be ringing in the New Year sober...not like that's a major issue. But being around drunk people when you're not drunk isn't exactly the most fun you'll ever have. Oh well.

The only other thing that really blows is the fact that I'll be 27 in two days and it's like I'm not even excited for it. The only thing I keep thinking about is the impending doom I'm going to have to face in a few weeks. Not to mention the fact that once again I won't know what's happening until I wake up from surgery. I won't know if I'll be shacked up in my house for a few weeks or a few months. I won't know if I'll be in crazy pain with tubes coming out every which way and in the hospital for 5 days. I won't know if I'll be facing a miserable healing process or if it'll be a piece of cake. It sucks - not to know. That, I think, is the worst part.

Life as I know it.

I decided to take the day off today to lounge around my house with my dogs and watch movies on the couch. Sometimes you just need a breather, you know? I was woken up this morning by a phone call from my doctor's office - scheduling me for an appointment on the 15th. I was kind of pissed that I wouldn't be able to find out what the hell is going on until then so I called my mom to do the dirty work and find out what was actually happening from my doctor.

Side note: My 27th birthday is on the 17th. Happy birthday to me!

My mom called me back a little while later with a bunch of news. I guess you could say it's both good and not so good. I'll start with the good.

First of all, there are three nodules but the third one is actually in my left lung - which apparently was already there before my surgery. This one actually shrunk in size so they don't think it's anything to worry about and do not believe it's cancerous. Which is great! The second piece of news is that she doesn't want to explore chemo at this time...again. Which, of course, I'm thrilled with. The third piece of (semi) good news is that the new tumors in my right lung are so small that there are a few different options I can choose from. Which leads into the not so great news.

The first choice I have is to not do anything and watch to see if they grow during the next 3 months until my next CT's. Apparently quite a few people choose this choice! I mean, to each his own but seriously - I don't want this shit in my body. Get it the fuck out. So that is not even a possibility in my mind. My second option is to get this type of hormonal therapy which would include pills and/or injections. This would throw me into early menopause. GREAT!! My mom didn't discuss this with my doctor but my only concern with that (other then the loads of unwanted side effects) would be if I ever decided I wanted to have kids - would I be able to? I don't know if I want that hanging over my head. And Lord knows I was never a kid person but I still want to know I have the option. The third choice is this less invasive type of surgery where they actually go in and burn the tumors.

She said that she didn't think my lung doctor would want to operate only because I legit JUST had surgery. My mom asked if she could speak with my lung doctor to see what his thoughts on all this would be so that on the 15th we would have all possible options to explore.

The last piece of information I should add is that my doctor said that in the scheme of everything, these tumors are extremely small. The one that has been there for a year or so was a .7 and the new one from my scans in August was a .4. They both grew to a .9. Obviously, it's not a good thing. But, they are still very small. This is the only saving grace I'm holding onto. At least it's not like over the last few months they grew into this giant mass that was taking over my lung. It's still fucking scary and I'm still super upset. But at least I know I have a few options to look into.

Decisions, decisions...